


It's a Nice Picture

by thalialunacy



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-22
Updated: 2010-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:31:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Chris can't take Karl's friendly touches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Nice Picture

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from [this picture](http://pics.livejournal.com/thalialunacy/pic/0030e8sx) & abigail89: "One of my absolutely favorite ChrisKarl images of all time. I'm picturing Karl's fingers tracing the swell of Chris's ass...."

The bar is ridiculously hot, Chris reasons as he washes his hands, and he has never hated ties more than he does at this moment. But he can't pull off that suave unbuttoned thing like--

Like Karl.

 _Shit_. He wipes his mouth as he stares at the reflection in the bathroom mirror. He's flushed and pale and sweaty and maybe he should just drink more and try to forget about it. About the huge warm hand very nearly on the small of his back, burning through layers of clothes as it slid just too low to be friendly but not low enough for Chris to be certain about anything, and _that's_ the fucking rub. He can't ever tell if it's an accident, or if Karl's just that kind of guy, because it's not something you can take a survey on -- 'Hey, guys, does Karl ever touch you in a manner that could be construed as uncouth?'-- and anyways he's not sure he wants to know. He's kinda sure he just wants it to be him that Karl can't seem to keep his hands appropriate around, just him that makes Karl forget that whatever picture's being taken will get into the public eye, just him that inspires that look of _minemineminefuckoffmine_ as Chris's own face goes kind of blank from trying to compute, trying to not spontaneously--

"You all right?"

Chris starts, reeling back from where he was leaning on the porcelain of the sink, as Karl saunters in--really, that's the only verbage that'll work, Chris thinks, and he hates it a little--and does his Stance in front of the urinal.

Chris looks away, looks at his tie. "Yeah, m'fine. Just warm in there, you know?" Karl nods, finishing and tucking and zipping and Chris feels strangled. "See you back down there?" he says with a jab of his thumb towards the door, his intentions clear.

But Karl doesn't reply. Instead he moves until he's right next to Chris, slightly behind him and they're both staring at the mirror, at the picture they make. It's a fucking nice picture, and Chris' lungs are tight in his chest. He suddenly wants a cigarette more than fucking _anything._

Then he feels Karl's hand on his lower back. His very lower back, like always too fucking low for propriety. The air swooshes out of him on a huff but he forces it into a laugh and tries to hold the rapidly crumbling pieces of his self-control together. But then--then the hand does its little dip-dip-dance and sizzles right through Chris' common sense.

He reaches back, not turning, and grabs Karl's wrist. He just holds him there, watching his face, watching the expression twitch just slightly and feeling the muscles and tendons writhe and twist just under the skin. He swallows once for bravery. "Either put up or shut up, Urban," he says finally, roughly, a little needily. He swallows again. Waiting.

The hand moves. The hand moves up and Chris thinks that's it, show's over until he realizes it's going _under_ his suit jacket and tucking itself neatly under the waistband of his pants. There's far too much fabric still in the way but Chris feels it all the way to his edges and has a moment of understanding of why women love Victorian romance novels so much.

Then Karl's breath is on his ear. "This all right?"

And when Chris locks eyes with him in the mirror again, he sees exactly what he needs to see, and a smile careens across his face. He reaches up to grab the back of Karl's neck-- "Fuck yeah, it's all right," -- before twisting them together just enough -- he keeps Karl's hand right where it is, though, thank you very much -- for an _about fucking time_ kiss.


End file.
